The Hetalia Nativity!
by Icefrosty
Summary: Christmas is around the corner, and Italy comes up with the idea to do a nativity play for the occasion. Germany is organising it. Everybody else will get their part...but can they pull it off successfully? That is, without blowing something up?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Misfits—I mean, Actors!

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It was only a week before the scheduled nativity play would take place, and Germany was losing the will to live. Being the sole organiser of the entire event, trusting no-one but himself to get the job done without causing mass destruction, all responsibility for every last detail of planning, actors, props and staging were resting on his slightly-stiff, broad shoulders.

Sighing haggardly as he scanned his list for the remaining volunteers for the parts crucial for the play to function, Germany brooded on the fact that nobody had put on a performance to his liking for any of them. Time was short, and they hadn't even got any decent actors yet. The last one had been a drunken Ireland who had gotten a little too amorously familiar with Busby's Chair (sitting in for an absent 'Mary') and had destroyed the inanimate object when it 'refused' his advances.

Needless to say, England had made a mental note to put off giving in to Ireland's demands for the unification of Northern Ireland for another...well, eternity.

Having literally kicked the fuming Irishman out onto the street and roaring at him to 'get a job, you filthy bum', the despairing blonde nation called out for the next candidates.

Presently, a sheepish and heavily pregnant Ukraine and pumped-up America walked in together, already dressed up in their chosen garments. Ukraine was modest in her loose blue gown and shawl, and America beaming and disturbingly unassuming in his dull brown shepherd's garb, and very wisely not wearing glasses. Germany made a written note that America did indeed pay attention to detail…but only when he wanted to. The only thing that gave the otherwise loud and grand young nation away was the long cane, which America, for some unknown reason, chose to wield like a lasso, waving it wildly everywhere while Ukraine did her best to avoid being hit, the fake beard that was two miles too long, and trailed along the floor as he walked in, and the enormous sign bearing the American flag strapped proudly to his forehead.

Germany braced himself for the stupidity that was to come.

"Zho..." he commenced, eyeing them individually. "I azzume you are Mary and Joseph respectively, correct?"

They both nodded, America doing so with such violent vigour it was a miracle his head didn't snap off.

"OK. Vell, please do a brief scene together that you have practised beforehand, just to test how vell you can work together on stage. Ready? Begin!"

Germany said all this without pausing, so the pair had literally no time to prepare themselves. As a result, they stood where they were for a few seconds just staring at each-other blankly, mouthing 'What do we do?', "Scene one, scene one!", "Oh, OK!"

Then they began.

America took a few strides backwards and mimed opening the door while the Ukraine turned her back and mimed cooking...something. 'Joseph' approached 'Mary' with all the machoism of Spain on the day of a bull fight, legs so wide apart he might as well have been doing the splits in mid-air, hands on hips and chin cocked up snobbishly.

"Hullo, _Mary!_" he boomed, making both Ukraine and Germany jump.

Ukraine turned and fumbled timidly.

"Oh...h-hello, Joseph..."

"Anything special happened today?" America demanded suspiciously, as if having long-suspected a scandalous affair on the part of his 'wife'.

Ukraine looked away.

"Um...well...th-the Angel of the Lord appeared to me, and...he said I'm pregnant," she explained, bracing herself defensively.

America might as well have been told McDonalds was going bust by the way he reacted. He metaphorically exploded, arms failing and pointing accusingly at Ukraine's face.

"WHAT? YOU'VE BEEN IN A SEXLESS MARRIAGE WITH ME FOR TWO MONTHS AND YOU TELL ME YOU'RE **PREGNANT**?" he roared, causing the Ukraine to jump back and Germany to momentarily worry for her safety.

"Y-y-yes..." Ukraine stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

"WELL WHO'S THE FATHER THEN?" America bellowed, stamping his cane on the ground with each syllable, and pointing a threatening finger at Ukraine as he demanded: "COME ON, YOU LITTLE HOE, _WHO IS HE?"_

"I...I don't know..." poor Ukraine blubbered, tearing up. "I was laying in my bed one night and complaining about my big boobies, when the Angel of the Lord appeared and shoved his face in them and said 'You don't have to worry about your jugs being fat, they're 99.9% milk retention, and since you're pregnant the baby'll just suck it all out of you like a cute drooling leech..."

America stared, shocked, clearly having not expected this response. He calmed down considerably and made to embrace the whimpering Ukraine.

"Oh, Mary, darling, I'm sorry—!"

Suddenly Ukraine shoved the apologetic 'husband' so hard he lost his balance and fell over backwards.

"Get away from me you BASTARD!" she barked, fuming. "I don't need you, I'm going to Bethlehem on my own!" With that, she turned and stormed away.

"And...CUT!" Germany announced, clapping despite being stunned by the explosive performance. "Vell done to zhe both of you! You really got into character and executed drama vunderfully!"

Ukraine smiled bashfully and hid her face in her hands while a shaken America staggered to his feet.

Germany, not caring for the deficiencies in their performance, being all-too-desperate at this point, smiled.

"You got the parts, see you tomorrow afternoon at eight o'clock sharp for rehearsals! Be late and I shall force you to parade around the streets wearing lederhosen and yodelling!"

The pair whooped and hugged each-other and skipped out of the hall, Germany left wondering whether he'd made the right choice.

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The rest of the desired actors came in quick succession, much to Germany's relief. The first was France, carrying a plastic doll in both hands. He presented it to the confused German with pride.

"Baby Jesus!" the Frenchman announced, grinning.

Germany didn't know how to respond.

"Uh...OK...is that all?"

"Non!" France replied brightly. "He also pees!"

Germany was too flabbergasted to stop France from pushing a hidden button somewhere on the doll's body and activating the function, causing fake piss to spurt out of the plastic nether-regions and onto the floor, forming a small puddle, while France looked on with pride.

Finally, the disturbing display ended, and France looked at Germany with expectation. Germany looked at France with a mixture of pity and revulsion.

"France," the blonde nation said.

"Oui?"

"The doll got the part."

"YAY!" France cheered, throwing the doll up into the air and catching it several times like a football.

"FRANCE!" Germany bellowed, "TREAT ZHE BABY JESUS VITH RESPECT!"

France stared, thinking the other had finally lost it.

"But this isn't really…"

"Vhatever. It got the part, now get out."

France looked hurt.

"But…what about moi…?"

Germany blinked, and then assumed the air of superiority as he said:

"Oh. You get nozhing."

France gaped.

"_WHAT?_ But…but what if the baby needs to pee…?"

"NEIN! ZHE BABY JESUS VILL NOT BE PEEING DURING ZHE PLAY! VE HAVE CHILDREN VATCHING! VE DO NOT VANT ZHEM TO GO HOME THINKING ZHAT PART OF ZHE UNTOLD STORY VAS ZHAT BABY JESUS PISSED ALL OVER ONE OF THE VISE MEN AND THE SHEEP! GET! OUT!"

France scarpered, throwing the doll at the livid Germany, who caught it, and proceeded to stare at it (its face, of course) with interest.

He then cradled it, cooing in German baby-talk.

"Zhere, zhere, little baby Jesus," he murmured. "Who is a cute little son of God? Who's a squishy little Messiah? You are, yes you aaaare!"

Germany stopped giggling and looked up suddenly to see England wearing nothing but a white toga, sandals, and a cheap plastic halo.

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Wielding a plastic toy wand and trying to secure his feathered wings on his back, England was the picture of 'epic fail'. Thankfully, Germany was too concerned whether the nation was good for the part to ponder on how stupid and girly the other looked.

He hastily stowed the doll away in one of the desk drawers and tried to resume his former stern composure, only to make himself look more ridiculous than he had a few seconds prior.

A long, crooked smirk twitched on England's face as he tried to retain his own dignity while mocking Germany's lack of it.

"Sorry to interrupt you, old chap," he sneered. "If you want, I'll come back in an hour when you've finished drooling over your dolly!"

Germany pursed his lips to restrain himself from strangling the Brit.

"Oh, that von't be necessary. Now—I assume you are volunteering to play the Angel of the Lord?" he asked, shuffling his papers needlessly.

England gave the other a withering look.

"_No! _I'm going to be Elton John!" he drawled, layering every word with sarcasm. "Of course I'm the Angel! _God!"_

Germany reached for his glass of beer, but crushed it in his rage. Ignoring the mess, he addressed England with a deadly calm.

"Very vell. Begin."

England sighed, mentally preparing himself, spread out his arms wide and tried to look imposing. He ended up looking like a skinny out-of-work Roman-era extra who had stumbled into a Harry Potter convention.

"Be NOT afraid!" he cried in the most overly-dramatic manner known to man. "For I am the Angel of the Lord! And I bring you glad tidings of GREAT JOY!"

He finished, and looked expectantly at Germany.

Germany had the look of one who had expected more but was brutally disappointed.

"Uh…was that it?"

"Yeah, I've forgotten the rest. Sorry."

"Vell…remember them for next time," Germany fumbled, feeling horribly awkward.

England caught on a split second later and twirled, to the immense horror of Germany, whooping and shouting "TAKE THAT SCOTLAND, YOU GIT!"

Germany waited until the jubilation had ended.

"…Fine. Now get out."

England pouted, gave him the finger, and ran out to avoid being clobbered by an angry German wielding a baby doll with all its bodily functions at his disposal.

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Next came Italy, Prussia, and a vengeful France all together, looking much like America had—minus the emblazoned flag and unnecessary twirling of their canes, although Prussia, clad in white and silver, had a sign saying "MOST AWESOME BEING IN THE UNIVERSE!" strapped to his head. Their beards were even longer than America's, with the albino nation's trailing behind all the way to the back door. France wore an eye-meltingly strong pink robe and frilly head-scarf, a rose pinned to his front. Italy, glad in various shades of green, was busy munching on a breadstick, looking happy. But then, Italy always looked happy.

"The three shepherds?" Germany asked.

They nodded.

"ATHWIDJMAFF!" Italy blurted through a mouthful of bread.

Germany looked at his albino brother for a translation, which Prussia gave.

"And the vise men!"

Germany was pleased. This saved a lot of time seeking another three volunteers for those particular parts.

"Very vell. None of you, as you know, have speaking lines. You merely mime actions…although, it vould be nice if you could improvise a little before the Angel of the Lord—England—arrives."

While he was speaking a horribly creepy smile stretched all across France's face.

Germany chose to ignore it.

"WHUFFSHEOFLFLSLUYY?" Italy drawled, spewing showers of crumbs.

"VHAT?" Germany shouted incredulously, making the hungry Italian flinch. "STOP EATING, ZHIS IS A SERIOUS MATTER! IT IS NOT LIFE UND DEATH, IT IS FAR MORE ZHAN ZHAT!"

"Vhat should ve say?" Prussia translated, sniggering.

Germany thought about this.

"Anyzhing. But make it relevant to the time period—."

Prussia snorted.

"Heh. _Period! _HA!"

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself and sighed.

"You get the point. And you all get the parts. Dismissed!"

The trio left—Prussia still cackling to himself, France plotting silently, and Italy still munching away on his breadstick.

Germany was left alone, dying a little more inside.

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Next came Russia, looking extremely pleased. Then again, the large, unassuming yet terrifying nation always looked pleased.

Germany shifted uncomfortably. Russia was wearing his normal clothes, and the blonde nation was relieved to see no visible weapon in sight.

"Zo…vhat are you going to do?" he asked.

Russia giggled.

"I'm going to be narrator, da!" he said, as if it was already decided.

"Oh, but…" Truth be told, Germany had secretly wanted to be the narrator. He had the right voice. The voice that gave drama to the proceedings and fully captured the story.

"Is there a problem?" Russia questioned, and Germany was alarmed to look up and see the towering nation looming over him, smiling and blazing with a dark aura that seared the air with its evil, violet eyes alive with bloodlust.

"N—nein…" Germany stammered. "Zhat…zhat is fine…You may go…"

Russia snapped back to normal and clapped his hands like a five-year-old who was promised sweets.

"Yay, I'm so happy~!" he sang, turning and waltzing out of the room.

Germany waited until the Russian's singing and loud footsteps were out of his hearing, and doubled over, clutching his chest and shaking with suppressed terror.

Why had he done this? Why? What the hell had possessed him when he allowed stupid Italy to have his way and allow a nativity play to take place? What?

He got to his feet and went to get another beer. He couldn't do this sober.

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Next came a very ratty China, huffing and grumbling and dressed in peasant's garb.

"An innkeeper, aru! In a Christian play! Why do I let Japan talk me into these things? Why?"

"Because you are a pussy," Germany stated, as if it was a known fact.

"WHAT?"

"Never mind, you get the part," Germany announced hastily, before China realised there was a broom very near him. "See you tomorrow at rehearsals!"

Grumbling viciously, China turned and stormed out, kicking over the grandfather clock in the corner as he went out.

"HA, I didn't even make zhat clock anyvay! Switzerland did!" Germany called out smugly.

China bolted back and stared at Germany around the door in horror.

"Switzerland?" he spluttered. "I-is he out of town?"

"Ja, for two more veeks."

"Can you tell him it was the panda?"

"_Jjjja…" _Germany drawled out slowly, rolling his eyes, "But only if you play your part vithout svearing or complaining on the night!" he bargained, grinning fiendishly.

China glowered.

"I hate you, aru."

"OK. Bye-bye."

Spitting on the floor in Germany's direction, China once again left, but this time in angry silence. Germany sat back in his seat, smug and loving it.

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Finally, in came Greece and Japan, clad in Roman soldier's armour and looking extremely bored. The armour was way too big for them as well. It was all they could do to walk more than five steps at a time without tripping over themselves. Thus, they both took fifteen minutes to get across the room to Germany's desk. Germany, the sadistic bastard, did absolutely nothing to help them, and simply watched, amused.

"We wourd like to be the Roman guards arongside Herod," Japan requested, panting, as they finally stood before the blonde worn-out and more than a little sweaty.

Germany stared.

"Uh…OK. That's fine. You just have to be blank and one-dimensional. You'll both do just fine," he said, not being able to resist a slight jab.

"But…we need a Herod…" Greece mumbled, like an old man not quite certain what planet he was on.

Germany groaned.

"Oh Gott, ja…vell…who could play someone so evil and calculating…?" he wondered aloud, wracking his brains furiously. The blonde then noticed both Japan and Greece staring at him pointedly.

"…Vhat?"

They kept on staring.

Germany finally clicked.

"…Nein," he refused, looking absolutey stricken. "Nein, nein nein!"

Japan smiled eerily.

"I wirr ret you control the giant robot for a whole month."

Germany screwed his face up in mental agony. Damn, they'd got him on his weak spot!

"Ghhh…You bastard!...Fine, fine I vill do it! But I svear to Gott, if ANYONE mentions the Var I vill—!"

"No one wirr mention the War," Japan promised, grinning in triumph (much to Greece and Germany's horror). "We wirr leave you now. See you at rehearsals."

Bowing, he and Greece left the room, leaving Germany wallowing in self-loathing and dread. How was this all going to plan out? What would be destroyed? His reputation? His house? The young members of the audience's innocence? He couldn't tell, and he hated to think about it. For now, he just had to prepare for the hell that would no doubt come in the form of agonisingly and unnecessarily difficult rehearsal sessions that would test every single one of their respective sanities—or lack thereof—as well as their endurance. Germany just prayed they could all hold out and pull this nativity play off, for the sake of their audience and Christmas!

…He wasn't getting his hopes up.

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TO BE CONT.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Rehearsals...or Very Heated Arguments.

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The actors/actresses/chairs were now assembled. It was the evening after Germany had hand-picked them, in which they were to discuss and properly establish their individual parts. Sitting in a close circle in the middle of the exact same hall, chatter was abundant as Germany consulted his notes one last time before they began.

They'd had to postpone the meeting fifteen minutes because of several late-comers with their own batch of excuses the strict blonde nation was forced to put up with for the sake of the nativity's future. This didn't stop him from snapping his last available pencil in half in frustration and forcing Italy to give him one by holding him at gun-point.

China had seen a travelling buffet on his way and couldn't resist stuffing himself stupid, had passed out, and had to be carried by Italy, who was incapable of carrying anything that wasn't food related, threw his back out, and had to be helped by Japan, who in turn threw _his_ back out. Eventually all three of them had to be carried on the back of Prussia (he's just that awesome), and thus all of them were just as horribly late as each-other. Everyone else came on time. Greece hadn't turned up at all, but then, he didn't need to. The only reason Japan had come along (despite also not needing to) was because he felt it was his duty, as the most calm and rational one, to assist Germany in upholding as much order and structure as there could be with all the nations that were currently present.

Clearing his throat, Germany instantly heralded silence to descend upon the ronom, and surely, every face turned expectantly to him.

"Velcome, everyone. First, allow me to express my gratitude for volunteering to take part in this community event, because, let's all be honest, we all have things we'd much rarzer be doing right now."

Everyone nodded and stared into space, muttering as they recalled all the things they could (and would rather) be doing at that moment. Germany himself began to imagine himself lazing on the sofa by the fire with some hot chocolate and nomming on Lindt chocolate and watching his German folk music channel while Prussia played Muller with Gilbrid.

Suddenly, he remembered his duty to bring this Christmas play to life and the joy it would bring to the community, and punched himself in the face as punishment for being so selfish.

His fellow nations began to think the stress was finally getting to his head.

"Right," Germany resumed hastily before anyone, including himself, began to have serious second-thoughts, "let's start by going clockvise around zhe circle and introducing ourselves and the character ve vill be playing."

England quirked an eyebrow.

"Germany, we already know who we are. We've been aqainted with each-other for centuries, I think that's enough time to know each-other's names. Unless, unbeknownst to me, we've all come down with Alzeimers at the same time," he pointed out as sardonically as he could muster.

Germany's face reddened.

"The guidebook said zhis was zhe best starter and I'm sticking to it!" he rumbled, eyes flashing dangerously.

All eyes stared at him, flabbergasted.

"You...have a guidebook for organising a nativity play?" they asked, in unison.

Germany puffed out his chest proudly.

"JA! Several actually; one for each type of play. The tragic plays, the comedy plays, the pedophile plays (I'm looking at you, France! [France: "...Ha?"])...But that's beside the point!" he barked, coming back to the situation at hand. "No more talking! Now, begin!"

Since Italy was on Germany's left, he started off, smiling all over his face like Santa had gave him a life-time supply of vouchers for Pizza Express.

"Ve! I'm Italy, and I'm-a playing Freaky Shepard Three and Constipated Wise Man Three!"

Japan looked hilariously dignified as he spoke.

"Herro, I am Japan. I look forward to being Mindless Soldier Standing By Herod But Not Actually Herod One. Greece is Mindless Soldier Standing By Herod But Not Actually Herod Two."

Japan had to breathe through a respirator for a few minutes after that.

Prussia gestured wildly, smacking Japan and France, who sat on his left, in the faces as he did so, Gilbird whizzing uncontrollably round his head, affected by his master's excitement.

"I'm The Awesome Me, and I'll be Freaky Shepard One and Constipated Wise Man One! Because I am Number One!"

France gave everyone an individual 'meet me in the basement at six with a a tonne of drink and an open mind!' look before speaking.

"Bonjour, I am France! I am playing the lovely Freaky (but sexy) Shepard Two and Constipated (but sexy) Wise Man Two!"

Russia's evil aura was burning hotter and larger than usual, and as a consequence searing the hair of those around him.

"Hello, I am Russia and the Creepy Narrator, da? I just make things up as I go along and have fun!"

"iJa...that is one of the many zhings I am dreading.../i" Germany muttered under his breath.

Russia giggled, seemingly oblivious. Seemingly.

China, next, huffed.

"I am China, and the Angry Wifeless Inkeeper, aru! Why 'wifeless', aru? You got some thing about single people?" he demanded, glaring at Germany, who pointedly looked the other way. "DON'T IGNORE ME, ARU! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!"

"So do I, da!" Russia put in, as if it was a perfectly normal statement.

Germany had never felt so violated in his life. Well, apart from that time when... Nevermind!

England rolled his eyes as his turn came.

"Hullo, you know who I am. If you don't, shame on you," he stated snobbishly, "Anyway, I'll be the Angel of the Lord, or Brittanica Angel, if you will," he added, somewhat fancifully, smirking.

America beamed and stood up as if to deliver a divine proclamation.

"I, the Hero, am gonna be playing the Dude Joseph! I also have a neat-o beard!" he shouted, holding said absurdly-long beard for all to see like it was a trophy.

Everyone stared, not quite sure how to respond. Everyone except England, that is.

"Good for you," he muttered dryly.

America, however, was perpetually oblivious to sarcasm, the concept which he could never understand, as England had deliberately never taught him about it for his own devious purposes.

Thus, he beamed proudly at England's 'praise'.

"Thanks, dude!"

Ukraine, sitting by the still-standing American, blushed.

"Um...I am Ukraine, and...I will play Mary!" she stammered, smiling shyly.

Russis beamed, happy that his big sister was expressing herself better.

Germany was last, and looked horribly conflicted, left eye twitching convulsively with the stain on his pride.

Japan smirked secretively.

"Hallo, I am Germany...And I am..._Herod._.."

The room collapsed in laughter. England snorted and chortled, America gaffawed, pointing for no reason at the blonde's red face, Prussia was in hysterics on the floor, Russia sniggered into his scarf, and France lent on Italy for support as he 'onhonhon'd into the Italian's shoulder, with Italy himself, like Ukraine, trying their best to courteousty hold back their giggles. Japan was laughing inside.

Instantly Germany snapped, seized a grenade, and threw it all the way to one side of the room, where it duly exploded with such an almighty BANG everyone screamed and dived under their chairs (or each other) for protection, America screaming "IT'S THE TERRORISTS! ENGLAND, BREATHE ON THEM!" "WHAT, MY BREATH DOESN'T SMELL YOU WANKER!", and Russia sheilding Ukraine with his fat bulk. He could have shielded them all, but he couldn't be arsed.

Only Germany was left sitting calm and composed in his seat, staring down at the terrified nations with a deadly expression of zero-mercy.

"Laughing now? Nein, I didn't zhink zho," he said quietly, as the others stared up at him in horror. "Now perhaps you vill take this a little bit more seriously and SHUT UP AND GET TO VERK!"

Everyone jumped and promptly fell over each other again as they staggering to their feet.  
And with that, the week of rehersals began.

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Japan and Greece, naturally, were exempted from rehersals since they had absolutely nothing to do except stand by Germany and look imposing. The others, however, were not so lucky.

England was presiding over his scene with the three shepards (France, Prussia and Italy), refusing to wear his angel costume until the real thing, as he claimed he'd made some 'slight adjustments' to it.

Standing on his pedestal as the trio gathered around him, looking bored, England tried to liven the proceedings.

"Right, I heard old Kraut say you have to improvise before I come on-STOP SNIGGERING FRANCE, YOU SICK BASTARD!-so...well, get to it, I'll be over here..."

With that, he got off the pedestal and wandered off, leaving the three 'shepards' to their own devices.

Big mistake.

A mischevious France gave Prussia a shit-eating grin and slurred:

"Say, how many sheep did you fuck last night?"

Prussia shrieked with laughter as England watched on in horror.

"About fifty, I'm awesome!" he shouted, banging the floor with his fist in hysterics.

Italy beamed.

"I did two last night!"

The others gaped.

"WHAT?"

"RIGHT, _HOLD_ EVERYTHING!" England shouted, storming over. "NO IMPROVISING UNTIL YOU FIND SOMETHING CLEAN TO TALK ABOUT!"

The trio groaned.

"Right, I'll just carry on from here. Ahem." Clearing his throat, England spread out his arms and tried to emit a holy aura. He ended up just looking constipated.

The others sniggered.

"Be NOT afraid!" the Brit proclaimed dramatically. "For _I_ am the Angel of the Lord, and I bring you GLAD TIDINGS of GREAT joy!..."

England paused, basking in what he thought was his pious glory but what actually his fart wind.

France, confused, began to read England's lines from the script:

"'_For tonight is-_'"

"I know my own damn lines!" England snapped angrily.

"Oh, we thought you'd forgotten your lines!" France defended.

England frowned.

"That was the pause! The dramatic pause!"

The trio 'oh'd in unison and nodded sagely. England rolled his eyes in contempt and muttered 'morons' under his breath.  
He took his dramatic stance again.

"Be NOT afraid!" the Brit proclaimed dramatically, again. "For _I_ am the Angel of the Lord, and I bring you GLAD TIDINGS of GREAT joy!..."

Then England paused.

...

"'_For tonight-_'"

"THAT WAS THE PAUSE!" England shouted as France once again interrupted him.

"Oui, but you paused longer than you did last time and I thought you'd..." the other babbled.#

"FINE, FINE, JUST DON'T INTERRUPT AGAIN!" England barked, his patience fizzling out faster than one of Scotland's many, many cigerrettes.

France rolled his eyes and gave him the finger while England was busy primming himself.

"...But you'll need a prompt!" Prussia put in innocently.

England glared with pure fury, stomped down from his station and stormed over to Italy "RIGHT-_ITALY_ CAN PROMPT ME THEN, CAN'T HE!" he spat, throwing his script at the trembling Italian and stomping back again.

"S-si, right...!" Poor Italy stammered.

"Not very angelic, is he?" France muttered to his albino companion, who duly sniggered.

England let out a long, haggard sigh, like an angry balloon deflating, closing his eyes and mentally preparing himself once again.

...

"_'Be not-afrai-'_"

"NO, _BE_ AFRAID!" England snarled, lunging at the three cowering 'shepards' with absolute raging fury in his eyes, hand outstretched and ready to murder them all right there and then. "**BE _VERY AFRAID!_**"

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Germany was having similar problems controlling a very unwilling and vengeful China, who kept screwing up his own lines just to further irritate the blond nation. They were stuck at the scene when Mary and Jospeh approached the inn in which the virgin was to give birth, Germany sitting a little way away to survey the performance.

"Inkeeper, dude," a very awkward America said, arm around a nervous and heavily pregnant Ukraine. "Do you have a room where we may rest?"

"Yes, f-for I am great with...child..." Ukraine added softly.

China, leaning on a table as he would lean out of the top half of the door to the inn on the night of the play, huffed.

"No, no room! We are fully booked because of Chinee New Year, aru!" he snapped childishly, folding his arms.

America, still half-in character, foolishly tried to reason with him.

"Dude, that's not today, surely you can-!"

"I say there no room, go away and have child in gutter, you worthless whore!"

Ukraine burst into tears and ran away, pursued by a worried America calling out her name.

Germany promptly exploded.

"CHINA, VHAT THE HELL IS VRONG VIZH YOU?" he bellowed at the unconcerned Asian. "ANY MORE OF ZHIS NONSENSE AND I SHALL TELL SVITZERLAND YOU BROKE HIS CLOCK!"

China paled.

"Oooh, you damn Westerners, aru!" he grumbled, stamping his foot in frustration.

Germany sighed, calming down, but still very irritated. He looked at China with an expression a mixture of anger and disappointment; disappointment in China himself.

"Look," he said sternly. "I don't care if you're not a Christian, and I don't care that you've been somehow forced to do zhis against your vill. But what I _do_ care about is your attitude. You let your stupid ego get the better of you and seek to do whatever it takes to ruin this nativity play for everybody by botching your own performance and hindering others. You are insulting those of us who have given up their time on this special holiday to volunteer to take part in this community event, and those who go out of there way to watch and appreciate the great story being told-whether it is true or not. Now I don't care what Japan told you, I vill not allow you to continue on if you insist to act in such an insulting and childish manner! So, I will give you the ultimatum. Either man up and play your part properly, or get out of this hall and _stay out!_"

China gazed at the furious German nation, stunned. The other's words seemed to affect him, as he looked down in shame and did not speak for a while.

Germany, seeing the silence as an act of defiance, slammed his fist on the table, got up and grabbed his coat.

"Fine, be that way. I will just-"

"Wait."

Germany stopped and looked up at China's face, and was amazed to find him in tears.

"I...I will do my part, aru," he said, with conviction, smiling a little. "And I will do it the right way."

A slow, pleased smile spread across the blonde's face to match China's own, and nodded firmly.

"_Sehr gut_, that's the kind of spirit I want to see!" he cried proudly, setting his coat back down and walking over to where Ukraine and America had left. "_Jetzt_, let us continue!"

China nodded and wiped his eyes with his over-sized sleeve.

Germany peered round the door through which the other two had fled and, having clearly seen them both coming back, shouted "COME ON YOU SLACKERS! THE SCENE ISN'T JUST GOING TO PLAY ITSELF!"

Frantic apologies where coupled by the laughter of a four-thousand-year-old Asian nation that had discovered that age did not always mean wisdom.

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Lastly, there was the stubborn Russia, who refused to edit his own made-up lines, among them being _"And so Jesus became one with Russia"_, _"And so Herod, the evil Nazi wurst-pig slaughtered all the defenceless babies with bloodlust and prejudice-In fact, I implore that all audience members that want to honour their memories please attack Herod after the show, and shove his face into the dirt like the filth he is..."_, and _"look at the smoking-hot legs on that inkeeper, God I would love to chop them off and take them home..."_

After three hours of heated debate on Germany's part, the blonde simply gave up trying and told the Russian to 'do whatever' provided it wasn't too distressing. They already had France and his older brother in the mix as it was...

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When asked about how Germany himself was going to do his own part, the stubborn German maintained that he had his own ideas and would reveal them on the night. On his way home in the frosty star-lit cobbled street in which his Bavarian holiday home was situated, Germany was rather surprised to see Spain leading a donkey along towards him, who offered it for 'Mary' to ride during the play, giving the creature to him on the spot. When the blonde invited the other in for some cake and beer, the Spaniard declined, saying he had only dropped by to give the donkey to him. Thanking him gratefully as he departed, Germany was on his way again, donkey in tow and nibbling at his hair. Frowning, Germany made a mental note that it would probably be best not use hair gel for the next few days; no point if a donkey was going to ruin its work.

Arriving at his small, traditional German home, he let himself in and entered the dimly lit living room, hanging his coat and scarf on the wooden coat-hanger next to the door, wiped his feet on the mat, slipped them off, and went inside. All was hushed. He could hear Prussia's loud snoring from upstairs, the albino nation having gone home far earlier than him. The house smelled of long-since burnt out logs in the hearth, holly and Christmas cakes. Sighing contentedly, Germany's eyes fell upon the Christmas tree (a real one, as Germany would rather have sold all his wurst supply than buy a fake one) standing in the corner, the countless thin strips of lemmeta hanging over each branch glittering like tassels of silver, crimson candels sitting atop their golden holders on the various branches, blown out by Prussia, Germany looked up at the Christmas angel on the very top of the moderately-tall specimen, smiling and bursting with the innocence and joy Christmas could bring to people and nations alike.

She had been part of the special holiday since Germany could remember, always there, smiling. Just as China had been when he had finally realised his errors and chose to correct them; just as Ukraine and America had when the Asian nation had apologised for his appalling behaviour; just as Russia had when Germany had finally given in and allowed him free reign; just as France, Italy and Prussia had when they came back from rehersals and told Germany they had everything sorted out, and that he needn't worry about a thing, even helping with the clearing up of the hall after hours; just as Japan had when he unexpectedly turned up to give everyone biscuits and cakes during the rehersals; just as England had when he gave up being angry and laughed with the rest of them as they tucked in to their treats, sitting together in a unfieid circle in the middle of the old hall.

Smiling himself, Germany found himself thinking than perhaps the nativity would not turn out so bad.

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_TO BE CONTINUED!_


End file.
